Treehouse of Horror: Frinky Friday
by Dead Composer
Summary: Professor Frink offers Bart and Lisa a million dollars if they switch bodies for a month.
1. Chapter 1

This fic is rated PG.

Disclaimer: Matt Groening owns the Simpsons.

----

In Dr. Hibbert's office, Homer was seated across from the doctor, who was examining the results of his cholesterol test. "Homer, your cholesterol level is 255," Hibbert informed the overweight man.

"Is that bad?" asked Homer.

"For a hippopotamus, no," replied Hibbert with a chuckle. "Well, maybe borderline. I'd like to ask you a few questions about your lifestyle. Do you eat many fatty foods?"

"Yes," answered Homer, "but I work it off by chasing the boy."

Hibbert shook his head. "Homer, I'm afraid chasing your son around the house isn't enough exercise to make up for your kind of diet."

"Okay," suggested Homer, "I'll start chasing Lisa too. She never does anything wrong. I'll think of an excuse."

"You've greatly increased your risk of heart disease, Homer," said the doctor. "In addition to diet and lifestyle changes, I recommend you take cholesterol-lowering drugs."

"Okay, but I still want to chase Lisa," said Homer. "And Maggie, when she gets older."

Although he didn't take the doctor's advice very seriously, Homer was afraid of the nagging he might receive on his next visit. The next morning he stopped at a pharmacy on his way to the power plant. The Pimply-Faced Boy filled his prescription.

"Sixty capsules of Blimpitor, Mr. Simpson," said the boy in his squeaky voice. "Take two a day on an empty stomach."

"Whose empty stomach?" Homer asked him.

As he drove toward the plant, Homer held up the bottle of Blimpitor capsules and started to read the label. "Warning: May cause drowsiness. Use caution when operating a motor vehicle. Do not read warning label while operating a motor vehicle. D'oh!"

To his horror, a black stretch limousine had suddenly pulled into the street directly in front of him. He slammed on the brakes...

It was his misfortune that the passenger in the limo was none other than C. Montgomery Burns. "Ah, such a lovely day," gushed the old wraith to his lackey/chauffeur, Mr. Smithers. "Anyone who can't enjoy a day like this must be utterly insane, or work for me."

Smithers grinned warmly. "I get all the sunshine I need from your radiant...INCOMING!"

He had no time to react as Homer's station wagon barrelled toward the limo's driver side. The collision reverberated throughout the neighborhood. By the time the smoke cleared, the front end of Homer's car was totaled, as was the midsection of the limo.

"My...my heart...my heart..." croaked Burns, startled by the impact.

While Smithers tended to the old man, Homer jumped out of his car and was horrified to see Burns in the limo. "Oh my God!" he exclaimed. "I crashed into my boss! Mustn't panic...he probably doesn't remember me...but what if he does? I've got to hide! I wonder if Osama has any room in his cave. No! I should stay here and help!" Conflicted between helping and fleeing, he merely ran in circles and screamed in terror.

Burns' usually cold and clammy body became even colder and clammier in Smithers' hands. The bespectacled man began to weep as he realized the truth of the situation. "He's dead!" he wailed, embracing his boss. "The only man I ever loved is dead!"

Then Burns' eyes opened a crack, and he gasped out an order. "It's only my heart, you ninny. You'll find defibrillator paddles in the trunk."

Smithers hastened to the back of the limo to retrieve the paddles, when the still-panicked Homer hurried to his side. "Is he okay? Is he okay?" queried the frightened fat man.

"Yes," answered Smithers impatiently, "no thanks to your imbecilic driving."

"Hey, if your limo wasn't so gosh darn long, I would've missed it!" retorted Homer.

Smithers only glared. "Well, if you would pull your head out of your..."

As the men argued, Burns felt a strange chill sweep over him, and his body began to quiver. "Breathing...labored..." he mumbled. "Vision...getting...foggy..."

Within seconds he became completely stiff, and a winged angel of himself rose up from his body and floated into the sky. "So it turns out you can bribe God after all," gloated the angelic Burns. "Eeeexcellent."

Below him, Homer and Smithers continued their heated exchange. "Oh, yeah?" bellowed Homer. "Well, your mother sleeps with a night light!"

"Why, you..." Smithers roared. "Take that back or I'll...oh, no! Monty!"

Grabbing the defibrillator paddles from the trunk, he hurried to the passenger side of the limo and attempted vainly to reactivate Burns' heart. Homer came up behind him. "Is he dead?" he asked innocently.

"If you hadn't insulted my mother's honor, I could have gotten to him in time!" snarled the teary-eyed Smithers.

"Oh, it's my fault!" Homer snapped sarcastically. "It's my fault!"

At that moment Chief Wiggum appeared behind Homer, holding a pen and a pad of paper. "What was that you said?" he inquired.

"I said, it's my fault!" repeated Homer as he turned. "D'oh!" he added when he recognized Chief Wiggum.

A few days passed, and Homer was dragged to court for his alleged complicity in the death of millionaire Montgomery Burns. Homer's family waited breathlessly for the sentence to be passed, while Homer and Smithers stood at the head of the courtroom next to Homer's attorney, Lionel Hutz. Judge Constance Harm presided.

"This court hereby finds Homer Simpson at fault," announced Judge Harm with a bang of her gavel, "and orders him to pay damages in the amount of one million dollars to the estate of Charles Montgomery Burns."

"One million dollars?" Homer whined despondently. "Where will I get that kind of money?"

"You don't have to," Hutz told him. "You can make other arrangements with Burns' estate. It's all explained in this brochure." He then handed Homer a brochure with the title, "Are You Stuck in a Dead End Job? Then You Have Nothing to Lose with a Career in Indentured Servitude."

Hutz checks his watch. "Oh my goodness, I'm almost late for my three o'clock!" he exclaimed, and exited quickly.

Things looked bleak for the Simpson family as they gathered and commiserated in the courtroom. "I don't know how you'll get us out of this one, Marge," said Homer sadly.

Marge gave him a fond kiss. "Don't worry, dear. I'm sure you'll think of something."

"You realize that the damages will have to be paid by our children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren," Lisa remarked to Bart.

"Whoa, Lis, you lost me at children," was Bart's reply.

"We could run away," Lisa suggested. "Change our names. Make new lives for ourselves. With my brains and your uncanny ability to weasel out of deserved punishment, we could go a long way."

"Yeah," Bart mused. "We could go all the way to Antarctica, and maybe live with the Eskimos."

A few more days passed, and the Simpsons were discussing their situation around the dinner table. Lisa held a sheet with figures on it.

"According to my calculations," she announced, "if Dad quits his job at the plant and takes a job that pays twice as much, and if Bart and I become fast-food professionals instead of going to college, and if Mom and Dad don't have any more children, and if Bart and Maggie and I don't have children at all, and if Mom gets a job as a fashion model, then between the five of us, we should be able to pay off the damages in about fifty years."

"Things aren't as bleak as you picture them, Lisa," was Marge's response.

Bart smirked at his father. "Hey, Homer, my friends at school all think you killed Burns on purpose."

"I did not!" Homer insisted.

"C'mon, Homer," Bart goaded him, "you can tell me the truth. It's nothing to be ashamed of. I would have done it."

Marge interrupted Bart's idle talk. "Why don't you kids go play in your rooms while your father and I talk about how to make ends meet?"

"Okay, Mom," replied Bart and Lisa.

They left the kitchen, while Maggie remained behind and crawled about on the floor. When Bart and Lisa had made it halfway to the staircase, Bart had an idea. "Let's listen in on them," he whispered.

"No, that would be rude," Lisa whispered back.

"Fine," snapped Bart, and he hid by the doorway leading into the kitchen.

"Oh, Bart," Lisa grumbled as she climbed the stairs to her room.

As Bart eavesdropped, Marge offered to write some new ideas on the whiteboard. Picking up a black marking pen, she accidentally dropped it while pulling off the cap. Before she could pick it up, Maggie grabbed it and wrapped her fingers tightly around it.

"Well?" said Homer expectantly.

"Wait," muttered Marge as she struggled to pull the marking pen from Maggie's grip. "I just need to...tear Maggie away...from this...black marker." She finally took the pen away from Maggie, who started to cry.

Bart's eyes bulged in horror. He rocketed up the stairway into Lisa's room, where his sister was sitting on her bed and playing her sax. "Bart, what is it?" she asked when she saw his astonished expression.

"Lisa," Bart blurted out, "Mom and Homer are gonna sell Maggie on the black market!"

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Not long afterward, Bart and Lisa walked along the street, talking about what they had just learned about their parents' plans. "I can't believe they would do such a thing!" said Lisa indignantly. "Maggie's like family!"

"She _is_ family, Lis," Bart pointed out.

"We should confront them about this," Lisa recommended.

"Are you kidding?" said Bart incredulously. "What if they sell us on the black market too?"

"Oh," mused Lisa fearfully. "I hadn't thought of that."

"We've gotta do something, and fast!" said Bart, raising a clenched fist.

"But what can we do?" Lisa wondered. "We can't raise a million dollars overnight!"

They happened to be passing by the home of Professor John Frink, who, luckily enough, happened to be standing in the yard, watering his genetically engineered purple magnolias. Overhearing the kids' exchange, the professor chimed in, "Oh, yes, you can."

Lisa gazed at him hopefully. "Professor Frink? Do you, by some wild coincidence, know of a way to save our family from financial devastation?"

"Yes, by glavin, I do," replied the professor. "I've invented a new device that should revolutionize life as we know it, and even more importantly, make me fabulously wealthy, ng'hoy. I need two children, a boy and a girl, to act as test subjects."

"What's in it for us?" asked Bart skeptically.

"The government has invested generously in my project," Frink informed him. "If the test succeeds, you'll be rewarded five hundred thousand dollars apiece, for a total of one million dollars!"

"We'll do it!" cried Lisa with joy.

"Whoa, whoa!" Bart held up a hand to stop her. "What does this device do? Does it, like, turn us into super-strong mutant cyborgs?"

"No," answered Frink.

Bart's face fell. "Awww..."

"My new invention exchanges the contents of two human brains," Frink explained. "In essence, you, Bart, would become Lisa, and you, Lisa, would become Bart."

"Ewww!" groaned Bart and Lisa in unison.

"No way, Poindexter!" Bart protested. "You're not making a girl out of me. Girls are only good for one thing--making cooties."

"As much as I love my brother," Lisa added, "I would never want to actually be him."

"I'll give you some time to think about it," Frink offered.

The two kids stood facing each other with expressions of disgust as the professor waited patiently.

Then Lisa's face softened. "On the other hand," she mused, "such an experiment would give me an opportunity to study the male psyche through first-hand experience, and perhaps help me to gain insights that would eventually enable me to overthrow the system of male oppression, and bring about true equality of the sexes. How long would we be switched for, Professor?"

"One month should be enough time for me to gather all necessary data," was Frink's reply.

"Forget it, man," Bart complained. "I so do not want to be a girl. Not for a month, not for a minute."

"How about for Maggie?" Lisa asked him.

Bart only folded his arms and scowled.

"Fine," Lisa chided him. "You wouldn't last a day as a girl anyway. You'd go stark raving mad and beg to be switched back."

"I would not!" Bart retorted. "I can stand being a girl as long as you can stand being a boy!"

"Oh, yeah? Prove it!"

"I will!"

"We volunteer!" Bart and Lisa proclaimed.

"Fantastic!" said Frink.

Bart turned to Lisa and grinned smugly. "Ha! I laugh at your pathetic attempt to talk me out of it using reverse psychology!"

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

The experiment took place the next day. In Professor Frink's laboratory, Bart and Lisa were strapped and shackled into chairs. Two metallic helmets with flashing lights and wires attached had been placed over their heads. Homer, Marge, and Maggie were watching, while Frink was giving Bart and Lisa a final briefing. "Remember," he advised them, "this is a top-secret experiment, so if anyone asks me about it, I will deny all knowledge. I recommend that you claim to be the person whose body you possess, since nobody will believe you otherwise."

"I'm so proud of my babies," Marge gushed. "They're sacrificing their bodies for science!"

"Science?" said Homer in surprise. "I thought we were getting a million dollars!"

"This won't hurt a bit," Frink assured the kids.

"Then why are these shackles necessary?" asked Lisa.

"When the transfer is complete, you may react to your new bodies in an irrational manner," said Frink. "The shackles will prevent you from hurting yourselves."

"You're trying to scare me," said Bart cockily. "It won't work."

"Are you ready?" Frink asked Bart and Lisa.

"Ready!" they replied in unison.

Frink reached up, grabbed a large handle on the wall, and started to pull it down. Bart and Lisa gritted their teeth. A few seconds passed, but nothing had changed.

"Hey, I'm still me!" Lisa observed.

"Your stupid invention doesn't work!" Bart complained.

"Invention?" said Frink. "No, I was just turning on the air conditioning. It's hot in here, ng'hoyven."

Having said that, Frink pressed a large red button on a console. Electricity flowed into the wires attached to the helmets. Bart and Lisa experienced a tingling sensation that lasted for about five seconds. When it passed, they looked down at their bodies, then at each other, and screamed with fright.

"AAAAAARGH!"

Homer and Marge beheld the transformation in amazement.

"Omigosh!" exclaimed Lisa through Bart's mouth. "My voice! That's Bart's voice! I really am Bart! The invention worked!"

"Mom, help!" wailed Bart from within Lisa's body. "I sound like a girl! I'm wearing a dress!"

"This is so freaky," said Lisa-in-Bart in wonderment. "I had no idea being a boy felt so different. It's scary, but I think I can deal with it."

Seeing that Lisa had calmed down, Frink loosened the girl-turned-boy's shackles. Bart continued to squeal in girlish terror as Lisa, Marge, and Homer gathered around _her_. "I want my body back! Give me my body back!"

"But if he switches us back now, we won't get the money," Lisa reminded her brother.

"There's nothing wrong with being a girl," Marge assured him. "I was a girl, and look how I turned out."

"Girly girly girly, girly girly girly!" said Homer mockingly.

"Dad, cut it out!" said Lisa.

"You can go ahead and sell Maggie for all I care!" protested the panicked Bart. "I want to be a boy again!"

Marge was taken aback. "Sell Maggie? What are you talking about?"

"I...I heard you talking about selling Maggie to the black market," said Bart. "That's why Lisa and I volunteered for the experiment."

"I don't know what you heard," said Marge, "but we would never sell Maggie. Not for a million dollars."

"A billion, maybe," added Homer.

"Then we did this for nothing!" cried Bart, nearly on the verge of tears.

"Not for nothing," Lisa corrected him. "We still get a million dollars."

"I don't want a million dollars!" Bart wailed.

"Oh, come on," said Lisa impatiently. "You'd do anything for a million dollars. You'd stand on your head for a month. You'd eat nothing but liver and onions for a month. Is being a girl for a month really so bad?"

"Yes," replied the anguished Bart. "I feel weird. It's like cooties are swarming out of every orifice in my body. And my eyelashes...they're so long...so heavy..."

"Just a minute ago you said you weren't scared," said Lisa. "Are you scared now?"

Bart clenched Lisa's fists and tried to be brave. "Yes! I mean, no! I mean...Professor, get these shackles off me so I can get out of this crummy lab and go on with my life as if nothing had happened!"

"I will," said Frink, "once I'm finished locking away all the sharp pointy things."

Once the professor had released Bart from his chair, he led the confused kids to a full-length mirror, where they viewed their new reflections in astonishment. Lisa ran her fingers through Bart's pointy hair, while Bart could only stand still and gape.

"This is amazing, Professor," said Lisa. "I'm boldly going where no girl has gone before."

"Uuurgh..." Bart groaned.

As the family drove away from the laboratory with Bart, Lisa, and Maggie in the back seat, Bart folded his arms and sulked. "Mom, Homer, can you buy me some pants?" he asked in an unenthusiastic tone. "I don't want to wear a dress."

"If you buy her pants, I won't wear them after we switch back," said Lisa.

"I'm not a 'her'," Bart protested.

"Besides," Lisa went on, "what would the kids at school say if they saw Lisa Simpson wearing pants?"

"They'd say, 'Hey, look, there goes Lisa Simpson wearing pants,'" replied Bart.

"No," said Lisa, "they'd say, 'Hey, look, there goes Bart Simpson in Lisa Simpson's body wearing pants.'"

"Ay caramba, I didn't think of that!" said Bart. "If the bullies see me like this, they'll pound me into mush!"

"Not if you pretend that you're really me," Lisa suggested.

"But how can I do that?" Bart wondered. "I mean, you're like, smart, and stuff."

"We'll just tell everybody that...that Lisa's gone bad because she feels unappreciated by her family, and Bart's straightened out because he's learned through bitter experience the unpleasantness and futility of underachievement."

"Or we could tell them that aliens have taken over our bodies. That would be more convincing."

When the Simpsons arrived at home, Bart and Lisa took up positions in front of the bathroom mirror, where they gazed in wonder at their new bodies. "The only thing that keeps me from tearing off these stupid girl clothes is the prospect of seeing myself naked," Bart groused.

"I'm your little sister," Lisa pointed out. "You've already seen me naked."

"Yeah," said Bart, "but then it was funny because it was happening to someone else."

As Marge walked in to check on the kids, Bart took off Lisa's pearl necklace and handed it to his sister. "Here's your stupid necklace," he said bitterly.

"Lisa...er, Bart, don't take off the necklace," Marge urged him. "It makes you look pretty."

"I didn't have to look pretty when I was a boy," Bart grumbled. "Why should I start now?"

"Hey, look!" said LIsa jokingly. "There goes Bart Simpson in Lisa Simpson's body without a necklace!"

"It won't work, Lis," Bart grumbled. "Take the freakin' necklace."

"If you insist." Lisa took the necklace and--to Bart's dismay--started to place it around her own neck.

"Okay, okay!" exclaimed Bart. "I'll wear the necklace!"

Once he had taken the necklace from Lisa and put it on, he stepped out of the bathroom. "If anybody needs me," he said flatly, "I'll be in my room. For the next thirty days."

"When you say 'your' room," asked Lisa, "do you mean Bart's room, or Lisa's room?"

"Oh, geez!" Bart answered sharply. "Bart's room! My room! I'm Bart!"

"But I should have your room," Lisa opinionated. "I have to wear your clothes and shoes, and they're in your room. Plus, I want to learn as much as I can about how boys live, so it only makes sense that I should stay in a boy's room, and sleep in a boy's bed, and play with a boy's toys."

"Well, if you think I want to stay in a girl's room, and sleep in a girl's bed, and play with your stupid Malibu Stacy dolls, then you can go straight to..."

"You watch your language, young lady!" Marge interrupted. "I mean, young man!"

"Please, Bart," Lisa urged. "You don't have to play with my dolls. In fact, I'd prefer you didn't."

"Oh, all right. I'm going to Lisa's room, and I won't be out for a month." With that, Bart stormed into Lisa's bedroom and sealed himself inside.

Meanwhile, Lisa wandered into Bart's room and started to examine the various toys and comic books littering the floor. One in particular caught her attention--a radio-controlled monster truck. "That thing drives me crazy," she thought. "I don't understand what Bart sees in it. Maybe it's something you have to be a boy to appreciate."

When Bart stuck his head out of Lisa's bedroom door about ten minutes later, he saw Lisa in his body with the remote control, driving the noisy truck up and down the hallway, apparently having a great time. "Hey, Lis," he requested, "I need to take a whiz. Can you show me how?"

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

An hour or so later, Lisa was sitting on Bart's bed in a lotus position, chanting, "Om...om...om..."

Marge inserted her head through the crack in the door. "Time for dinner," she announced.

Lisa snapped to attention. "Oh, Mom, you interrupted my meditation," she complained.

"Sorry," said Marge, and she disappeared.

"Oh well, I wasn't getting anywhere," mused Lisa-in-Bart as she climbed down from the bed. "It's harder to find my core as a boy. Maybe boys don't have cores."

As she strolled down the hallway, Bart-in-Lisa greeted her with a Malibu Stacy doll in his hand--one whose face had been decorated with war paint, and whose hair had been dyed in rainbow colors.

"AAAARGH!" shrieked Lisa. "My Malibu Stacy doll! What have you done?"

"I've discovered the joy of playing with dolls," Bart replied. "Wanna see how I touched up the others?"

Lisa only gaped at the crudely painted doll. Such a sight would normally cause her to start crying, but as a boy, her emotions channeled in another direction...

"Must...kill...Bart," she growled, clenching her fists.

"Not so fast, Lis," said Bart petulantly. "You wouldn't want to hurt your own body."

A few minutes later Bart and Lisa, both looking depressed, joined Homer, Marge, and Maggie at the dinner table. "Pork chops and mashed potatoes for Homer," said Marge as she doled out portions. "Pork chops and mashed potatoes for Bart, and for Lisa, mashed potatoes with a vegetarian garlic-portabello patty."

As Bart started to greedily devour the pork chop on her plate, Lisa joked, "Hey, look! It's Bart Simpson in Lisa Simpson's body, eating a pork chop!"

"Get bent," Bart grumbled between mouthfuls.

Lisa took a bite of her garlic-portabello patty. "Mom, Dad," she said, "for as long as I'm in Bart's body, I'd like you to call me Bart. For that matter, I'd like you to treat me like Bart in every way. It's less confusing for you, plus it helps me to fully experience being a boy."

"Wait a minute," Bart interrupted. "They can't call both of us Bart."

"No, they can't, Lisa."

"How's this?" Homer suggested. Pointing at Lisa, he said, "I'll call you 'the boy'." Pointing at Bart, he added, "And I'll call you 'the girl'. That way, there'll be no confusion at all."

"I _hate_ that idea," Bart pouted.

"Too bad, girl."

Bart put down his fork. "I'm not hungry," he muttered, then walked away from the table. He mused upon his fate as he shuffled into the living room.

_This is the worst thing that ever happened to me_, he thought. _No one deserves to be a girl...not even girls_.

He took a seat on the couch and stared glumly at the skirt covering his legs. A moment later Snowball II jumped into his lap. "Hi, kitty," he mumbled indifferently. The black cat purred and rubbed her neck on the dress Bart was wearing.

_Hmm,_ he mused wickedly. _The cat thinks I'm Lisa. Maybe I can use his misplaced trust to my advantage._

A short while later, as Lisa was finishing her mashed potatoes, she, Homer, and Marge heard a cat screeching in the yard, accompanied by a series of firecracker explosions. "Snowball!" cried Marge as she looked out the window.

Homer flew into a rage. "Why, you little..." he snarled, wrapping his fingers around Lisa's throat.

"Homer, what are you doing?" Marge dissuaded him. "It's Lisa in there, remember?"

"Sorry, boy," said Homer, releasing his grip.

The girl-turned-boy struggled to catch her breath. "Now that I know how it feels," she remarked, "I'll never do it to a child of my own."

Bart was innocently watching TV when Homer and Marge confronted him. "I didn't do it," he lied.

At that moment a knock came at the door. Marge answered it, and Milhouse walked in. "Is Bart here?" he asked.

"Here I..." Bart started to say, but stopped himself.

Lisa hurried in from the kitchen. "Hi, Milhouse, what's up?"

"Do you want to come to my place and see my new ant farm?" Milhouse offered.

Bart's face lit up. "An ant farm? Cool!"

Lisa grimaced in disgust. "Ewww, ants!"

"I thought you _liked_ ants," Milhouse said to Lisa.

"Uh, I do," said Lisa-in-Bart in embarrassment. "I was just making fun of my sister. She can't stand ants."

"Uh, yeah, that's right," said Bart-in-Lisa peevishly. "And I was making fun of my ant-freak brother."

"How about it, Bart?" Milhouse urged his friend.

"Uh, okay," answered Lisa somewhat nervously, and the two boys exited through the front door.

Bart turned to his parents and scowled. "This bites! Lisa's taken over my body, and now she's taking over my life!"

"It's only for a month, dear," Marge reassured her.

"But what if she decides to keep my body?" said Bart anxiously. "What if I'm stuck like this forever?"

"Now that would _really_ bite," Homer remarked.

"That won't happen," said Marge with a smile. "Lisa likes being a girl."

Another knock on the door was heard. Marge opened it, and Lisa's friends Janey Hagstrom and Alison Taylor entered. "Oh, great," Bart grumbled. "Lisa's harpy friends."

"Lisa, I've got another anagram challenge for you," Alison greeted him.

"Anagram?" Bart mused. "Like, rearranging letters? Sure, I know how to do that."

"What can you make from Scott Bakula?" was Alison's challenge.

"Uh...uh..." Bart racked his brain for a minute. "Lacks a butt?"

"That doesn't have an 'o' in it," Alison pointed out.

"And it doesn't describe him very well," Janey added.

"You're just making up rules as you go along," Bart groused. "I don't want to play this stupid game."

"What's wrong?" Janey asked. "You seem depressed."

"Oh, it's nothing," answered Bart. "Girl problems, that's all."

"We're girls," said Alison. "You can tell us."

"Yeah, let's go up to your room," Janey suggested.

_Sure, why not?_ thought Bart. _Since I'm doomed to be a girl, I may as well learn their secrets._

Bart led Janey and Alison into Lisa's bedroom, and shut the door behind them. Janey gasped at the sight of six Malibu Stacy models on the shelf, in various stages of painting and dyeing. "Omigosh, what did you do to your Malibu Stacy dolls?"

"Uh, Bart did that," was Bart's reply.

"Is that why you're depressed?" asked Alison.

"No, it's something else."

"Did you and Martin break up?" Janey inquired.

Bart's eyes widened in horror.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Bart-in-Lisa stammered in horror upon hearing the suggestion that his sister and Martin were an item. "M-M-Martin's m-m-my b-b-b-boyfriend?"

Janey and Alison grinned in amusement at her reaction. "Actually, it's just a rumor," Janey pointed out.

Too shocked to comprehend Janey's answer, Bart fainted dead away. Janey and Alison turned the girl over on her back and tried to revive her.

"Lisa? Are you okay?" asked Alison, checking the girl's wrist for a pulse.

"Humina humina humina," Bart-in-Lisa mumbled deliriously.

The next morning, Homer, Marge, and Maggie were gathered in the kitchen for breakfast when Bart and Lisa shuffled in. Neither looked very happy, but Bart appeared downright miserable. "Good morning, kids," Marge welcomed them. "Did you enjoy your first night as each other?"

"Grumble grumble no grumble grumble," was Bart's response.

"Whatever does not kill me can only make me stronger," Lisa philosophized.

"I'll take that as a yes," said Marge.

While Bart scarfed down a plate of bacon and eggs, Lisa enjoyed a bowl of vegetarian oatmeal. "So far I haven't felt any urges to oppress females," she commented, "which suggests that the practice is societal rather than genetic in origin. As I proceed through the school day, I hope to establish that having a male brain doesn't alter my ability to reason abstractly."

"That's nice, boy," said Homer. "And you can find out what it's like to make whoopee with a girl while you're at it."

"Hrrrmm..." Bart grunted.

"I intend to do that," said Lisa, "once I get used to these weird boy feelings."

"If you get a girlfriend, I'll dump her after we switch back," Bart threatened.

Soon the kids were on their way to school, waiting at the bus stop with Milhouse, Sherri, and Terri. "Hey, Lisa, is that a new perfume?" asked Milhouse, sniffing the air.

"Yeah," Bart replied. "It's called Get Bent #5."

"When did you get an attitude?" Milhouse asked him.

"When did you get a zit?" was Bart's response.

Milhouse touched his face. "A zit? Where?"

Meanwhile, Lisa was gazing thoughtfully at the twins. _This is so strange_, she thought. _I've always liked hanging out with Sherri and Terri, but now they've taken on a whole new dimension_.

"Hey, Bart," Sherri spoke up, "what are you bringing for show-and-tell today?"

"Omigosh, is that today?" Lisa realized.

"We want to see your booger collection again," said Terri.

"Ewww, gross!" Lisa groaned.

"Gross?" Bart snapped. "I've been...I mean, you've been saving your boogers since second grade!"

Shortly the school bus arrived, and the kids boarded. "Yo, Otto Man!" Bart greeted the driver.

"Yo, er, Lisa dude," was Otto's surprised reply.

Lisa took a seat next to Milhouse. "Your ant farm was nice," she remarked, "but I'm of the opinion that ants should be allowed to roam free."

"Free?" said Milhouse. "Ants aren't free. They're all drones to the queen. They have to do whatever she says. Kinda like the Borg."

"The what?"

At the next stop, Ralph Wiggum boarded and sat next to Bart. "I wet the bed last night," he recounted. "Twice. The second time I was awake."

"Eat my shorts," Bart answered tersely.

"You're not _wearing_ shorts," Ralph pointed out.

"Then eat your own shorts."

"But they aren't dry yet."

As the bus arrived at Springfield Elementary and the kids disembarked, Lisa made a request of Bart. "Can I borrow my saxophone? I need something for show-and-tell."

"Sure, Lis," Bart answered. "I don't know how to play it anyway."

After Lisa had led Bart to Miss Hoover's room, she took the saxophone into Mrs. Krabappel's class. The class period commenced, and the kids started to make show-and-tell presentations.

"I found this little round plastic thing in my dad's dresser," said Lewis. "I don't know what it's for, but it's stretchy and fun to play with."

Then Lisa stood up, saxophone in hand. "This is my sister's saxophone," she informed the class.

"What did you fill it with this time?" asked Nelson mockingly. "Super glue and marshmallows?"

"I didn't fill it with anything," said Lisa. "I've been taking lessons, and I'm going to play it."

To the astonishment of the other kids and the teacher, Lisa-in-Bart proceeded to play a lively jazz solo on the instrument. Then she sat down, and Mrs. Krabappel stood to deliver a lesson. "I'm amazed, Bart," she remarked. "You finally picked up a talent. Now let's see how you do with long division."

Lisa was horrified. "Long division? I haven't even learned short division!"

Miss Hoover, meanwhile, was gearing up for a second-grade lesson. "Today we're going to learn short division," she announced.

"Boooooriiiiing," Bart groaned.

"Quiet, Lisa," Miss Hoover scolded her.

"But this is kid's stuff," said Bart. "I already know it."

"Of course you do," said the teacher. "But this is the first time you've complained. If second grade is too easy for you, why don't you skip to third?"

"Because she's in love with Ralphie!" Janey chimed in.

"I am _not!_" said Bart gruffly.

"Miss Hoover!" exclaimed Ralph from the back of the room. "The flies are tickling me!"

First period ended, and Bart walked sadly out of Miss Hoover's classroom and made his way to the washrooms. He swallowed nervously as he stood in front of a tall door with an imposing sign that read simply, GIRLS.

_Omigosh, I don't know if I can do this_, he thought nervously. _I've been inside the girls' room before, but it was always for pleasure, never for business_.

Several girls went in and out of the girls' room as Bart stood and watched anxiously. Then he saw Lisa exit the boys' room. "They really need to clean up the graffiti in there," she commented. "It's a mess."

As Lisa walked away in his body, Bart had an inspiration. Pulling a marking pen from his dress pocket, he snickered evilly and marched boldly into the girls' room. A minute later he came out grinning, and skipped away.

Shortly Sherri and Terri entered the girls' room. "Hey, Sherri, where's Nantucket?" came Terri's voice.

There were a few minutes left before the next period started, so Bart resolved upon another prank. Holding his hands behind his back, he approached the unsuspecting Martin Prince. "Hi, Martin," he said sweetly.

"Hi, Lisa," replied Martin with a friendly tone.

"There's a rumor going around that you're my boyfriend," said Bart with a smile.

"Really?" said Martin with relief. "Well, that should put to rest the rumor that I'm gay."

Then, to Martin's surprise, Bart made doe-eyes at him. "If it's not just a rumor...if you really are my boyfriend...I'm okay with that. I think you're kinda cute."

"Y-you r-really think so?" Martin stammered.

Bart stood on his toes, put Lisa's arms around Martin's neck, and kissed him on the cheek. Startled, Martin hurried away, with a sign taped to his back that read, NEED HELP WITH HOMEWORK? CALL 1-800-IMADORK.

As Bart watched him go, his grin faded. _I enjoyed that in more ways than I should have,_ he thought.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

In band class, Bart clutched Lisa's saxophone and thought about what he had just done. _I can't believe I kissed Martin. And the worst thing is, I feel like doing it again. It's like Lisa's body is commanding me to spread cooties. I must resist..._

He motioned to Alison, who was playing first sax. "Hey, Alison, do you think you could play extra loud so Mr. Largo can't hear me?" He started to speak hoarsely. "I've got a really sore throat."

"Sure, Lisa," said Alison.

Under Mr. Largo's direction, the band started to play _Stars and Stripes Forever_. When they were halfway through, the teacher noticed something amiss about Lisa's playing, and stopped the rehearsal. "Is there a problem, Lisa? I know you can play better than that."

"I'm sorry," Bart rasped. "I think I'm coming down with something."

"Then go see the nurse," Mr. Largo ordered him.

Bart put the sax in its case, then left the band room and started to snicker. "Suckers," he muttered. He started toward the nurse's office, only to be confronted by Principal Skinner in the hallway.

"Hello, Lisa," said the principal calmly.

Bart started to panic. _Omigosh, Skinner's on to me! He knows I'm really Bart! He must have some kind of telepathic radar! I've got to get away! I've got to...wait...did he just call me Lisa?_

"Uh, hello, uh, Principal Skinner, my good friend," he said bashfully.

"I'm guessing you have a valid reason for not being in class," said Skinner.

_I've got to act exactly like Lisa would,_ thought Bart-in-Lisa. _If I slip up in the slightest, he'll catch me_.

"Er, yes, I do," replied Bart.

"Very well," said Skinner unsuspectingly. "I'll be on my way."

As the principal strolled away, Bart grinned triumphantly. _Yes! He fell for it!_

Then Skinner stopped and turned around. "One more thing, Lisa."

_Uh-oh, now I'm done for!_

"Superintendent Chalmers is coming here next week for a quarterly inspection. I'd like you to help me welcome him. Do you think you could prepare a little speech on how much you enjoy being a pupil here?"

_Oh, sweet!_ thought Bart.

"Certainly, Principal Skinner," he said. "I'd love to."

"I knew I could count on you, Lisa." Skinner started to walk away again.

_Muwahahaha!_ thought Bart triumphantly.

Then Skinner returned to his side and handed him a slip of paper. "This is the second activation code for the doomsday weapon," he whispered warily. "I'll bring you the third and final code tomorrow, along with a suicide pill in case you get captured and interrogated by the enemy."

Bart saluted. "Understood, sir."

Skinner walked away, glancing around suspiciously.

_This is great!_ thought Bart. _Everybody trusts me! The only thing that would make this better is being a boy again._

Morning recess arrived, and Lisa wandered through the playground in Bart's body. Not far away, she saw Nelson bullying Ralph and taking a candy bar away from him.

"This hasn't been up your nose, has it?" asked the menacing Nelson.

"Not up my nose," Ralph replied innocently.

_Turn around and walk away slowly, Lisa_, she told herself. _You don't want to get involved. No, wait. I'm two years older than I was, and I'm a boy. Why should I be afraid of Nelson? He's just a big coward._

She stepped forward and confronted Nelson. "Give Ralph his candy back," she demanded.

"Make me!" Nelson growled defiantly.

"I'll _unmake_ you," said Lisa, clenching her fists.

"Oh, yeah?" snarled Nelson.

"Yeah!" Lisa snarled back.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

Ralph became bored with the proceedings and started to pick his nose.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Oh, yeah?"

Lisa checked her watch. "Hey, it's time for class!" She grabbed the candy bar from Nelson's hand and gave it to Ralph, then hurried away.

"This isn't over, Simpson!" Nelson bellowed after her.

Soon the longest, weirdest school day Bart and Lisa had ever experienced came to an end. The mixed-up siblings walked toward the bus stop together.

"How was your day?" Lisa asked Bart.

Her brother scowled. "Horrible. I wrote a naughty limerick on the wall of the girls' room, I kissed Martin on the cheek, I lied my way out of band class, and Skinner trusted me with his deepest secrets."

"Why was all of that horrible?" Lisa inquired.

"Because I'm a freakin' _girl!_" Bart snapped.

"Get over it," Lisa urged him. "Being in my body isn't so bad. I was in it for eight years, and I can't wait to go back."

Nelson walked up to Lisa as she and Bart waited for the bus. "Hey, Simpson!" he growled. "I believe we have some unfinished business!"

"Oh, dear!" Bart joked, standing behind Lisa. "It's a big, ugly, stinky bully with a face like a big ball of ugly mashed potatoes! Protect me, big brother!"

"Don't talk that way," Lisa advised him. "You'll only make him uglier."

Nelson waved his fist. "I'm gonna kick your butt from here to Shelbyville!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Lisa fearlessly.

"Yeah!"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

In the middle of his shouting match with Nelson, Lisa reached into Bart's pack and pulled out a tape recorder. Placing it on the sidewalk in front of Nelson, she pushed the Play button, and Bart's voice came out of it.

"Oh, yeah?" said the tape recorder.

"Yeah!" said Nelson.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

With Nelson distracted, Bart and Lisa boarded the school bus. Lisa sat with Milhouse, while Martin took a seat next to Bart, much to his chagrin.

"Uh, hi, Martin," Bart said coyly. "Nice to see you're still healthy."

"Why shouldn't I be healthy?" asked Martin.

"Uh, you know," said Bart, "girl cooties and all."

"I don't believe that girls have cooties," Martin told him.

Bart was stupefied. "You...you _don't?_"

"No, I think girl cooties are a myth." Martin glanced around. "But don't tell Bart I said that."

_Man, I never knew dorks grew so big_, thought Bart-in-Lisa. Yet he couldn't bring himself to mock and torment Martin as he had customarily done. The geeky boy had become a beautiful creature to his eyes, and he felt an alien desire to throw Lisa's arms around him again. _Fight it_, he ordered himself. _Don't give in to the girl side_.

Martin spoke up. "Were you...were you being serious when you told me...you know..."

"Told you what?" asked Bart.

Suddenly, in the seat behind them, Sherri and Terri leaped to their feet. "Martin and Lisa sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" they chanted.

"Hrrrmmm," Bart grumbled.

Marge welcomed the kids as they returned to their house. "How was school?" she inquired.

"Okay, I guess," said Lisa.

"Idon'twannatalkaboutit," Bart muttered.

"What's wrong, honey?" asked Marge with concern.

"Everyone at school thinks Martin's my boyfriend," Bart complained.

"Oh, that's so sweet!" Marge gushed. "You've only been a girl for a day, and you already have a boyfriend!"

"ARGH!" Bart roared. "He is NOT my boyfriend!"

"I've seen the way you two look at each other," Lisa remarked. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. You're a girl. He's a boy."

"But I won't be a girl a month from now," Bart reminded her.

"But _I_ will," said Lisa. "I've never told you this before, but I...I kinda have a crush on Martin."

Bart's jaw dropped.

"I can't summon up the courage to tell him," Lisa went on. "Maybe you can."

"Forget it!" Bart snapped. "And forget _you!_"

Lisa started to turn toward the kitchen. "I guess it was too much to ask for," she said disappointedly. "But I think you should seriously consider it. The month will go by a lot faster if you have a boyfriend to make you happy."

Rather than answer, Bart stormed up the stairway to Lisa's room, and slammed the door. Lisa shook her head and looked at her mother. "She's making herself miserable for no reason," she remarked.

Sulking on Lisa's bed, Bart stared at the Malibu Stacy watch on his wrist. A second went by. Then another second. Then another. Then another. The words Lisa had said echoed in his mind. "The month will go by a lot faster if you have a boyfriend...a boyfriend...a boyfriend..."

He gritted his teeth with determination. _I can't do it_, he thought. _The moment I start enjoying being one of them, they win_.

Then, unexpectedly, he started to cry.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

The sign in front of the First Church of Springfield chapel read, _Saturday: Funeral of Charles Montgomery Burns. Sunday: Sermon on the Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus_. Inside, Reverend Lovejoy was presiding over the funeral of Mr. Burns. Smithers was present as the executor of Burns' estate, and most of the others in attendance were greedy relatives of Burns. Kent Brockman was reporting on the funeral for Channel 6 News.

"The moment all of Springfield has been waiting for is now upon us," announced Brockman, "as Waylon Smithers reads Mr. Burns' instructions for the distribution of his estate."

The solemn-faced Smithers began to read from Burns' will. "My monetary assets I bequeath to all of my living relatives, in equal portions."

"Eeeexcellent," said Burns' relatives, drumming their fingers.

"My power plant and all buildings appertaining thereunto," Smithers continued, "I bequeath to the man who has served me faithfully for decades, the man who, among all the masses of wretched humanity, is most qualified to operate it...no, scratch that, I'll split it among my living relatives as well."

"Eeeexcellent," said Burns' relatives, drumming their fingers.

Smithers lowered the will and grimaced with anger. "Why, that rotten son of a... He disinherited me!" He then tore up the parchment and stormed out of view of the TV cameras.

"It appears there's been a surprise development in the execution of Burns' will," said Brockman. "I'll be back with more details, after this cartoon."

In the Simpson living room, Homer, Bart, and Lisa were watching the coverage as an Itchy & Scratchy cartoon interrupted it. "Cool! Itchy & Scratchy!" exclaimed Lisa.

The episode title: _Radiation Burns_. Scratchy sits at a desk in a palacial office, counting a pile of gold coins; through the picture window, a pair of nuclear towers are visible. When he sees Itchy standing in front of his desk, he grumbles and pushes a button on his console. A trap door opens, but it is two feet away from Itchy. Then the mouse pulls a box of chocolates from behind his back and hands it to the greedy Scratchy. The cat pops a few chocolates into his mouth, chews on them, and suddenly feels strange. Splitting open one of the remaining chocolates, he finds that it is filled with glowing plutonium. He begins to mutate grotesquely, as extra arms, legs, eyes, and ears sprout from every inch of his body...

Bart and Lisa laughed uproariously at the animated antics. "That was so funny, I forgot I was a girl," said Bart.

"You're a girl," Lisa reminded him.

"D'oh!" grunted Bart.

Kent Brockman reappeared on the TV screen, speaking with the still-outraged Smithers. "I'm here talking to Waylon Smithers, former chief administrator of the Springfield Nuclear Power Plant, about his dissatisfaction over Mr. Burns' will."

"If you don't mind, Kent," said Smithers, "I'd like to change the subject."

"Go ahead, but make it quick," said Brockman.

"I have a confession to make," Smithers began. "Homer Simpson was not at fault in the accident that caused Mr. Burns' death."

Homer, Bart, and Lisa stared at the screen in astonishment.

"Mr. Burns' ultimately fatal heart attack began seconds before the accident," Smithers continued. "I was distracted while trying to help him. Homer Simpson is innocent, and I will see to it that the damages charged to him are cancelled."

"Marge, get in here!" Homer called out.

"This is wonderful!" Lisa enthused. "Do you know what this means, Lisa?"

Bart nodded. "It means the money from Frink's experiment will make us rich! Rich beyond our wildest dreams! I'm so happy, I won't slug you for calling me Lisa!"

"Is it true?" asked Marge as she hurried into the room. "Is it really true?"

"It's true!" Homer shouted for the world to hear. "The Simpsons are going to be rich!"

"Rich! Rich! Rich!" they all chanted as they danced around the room. Even Snowball II and Santa's Little Helper joined in the exuberant celebration. After a few minutes, everyone fell down from exhaustion and started to breathe heavily.

"You're a girl," Lisa said to Bart.

"D'oh!"

After the funeral, Reverend Lovejoy returned to his house, hung up his robes, and changed into shorts and a T-shirt. His wife Helen and daughter Jessica gathered around him. "Your tribute to Mr. Burns was so moving and heartfelt," said Mrs. Lovejoy.

"I didn't believe a word of what I said," the reverend admitted. "I'm glad that ogre's gone, and I expect Springfield will become a much happier place because of it."

Unbeknownst to them, Lisa stood on the welcome mat outside, deliberating her next move. _I can't believe I'm doing this_, she thought. _But I'm the first girl ever to experience being a boy, and I've got to take advantage of that_.

The doorbell rang. Mrs. Lovejoy answered it, and Lisa-in-Bart walked through the door. Reverend Lovejoy sighed. "I spoke a little too soon."

"Good afternoon, Reverend," Lisa greeted the clergyman.

"Hello, Bart," said the reverend. "When did you start addressing me with more than one syllable?"

"I'd like to talk to Jessica," Lisa requested politely.

"And what if Jessica doesn't want to talk to you?" said the girl petulantly.

Lisa looked at her seriously. "I'm sorry for ruining your reputation as the reverend's perfect daughter."

Jessica was astonished at her words. "You're...sorry? Really? Do you mean it?"

"I mean it," said Lisa.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Bart Simpson?" asked Jessica incredulously.

"I'm Lisa Simpson," Lisa replied with a straight face, "and I've temporarily traded bodies with him."

"Odd as it may seem, I believe you."

Lisa gestured toward Jessica's room. "Can we talk in private?"

"Uh, sure," said Jessica, and she retired to her room with the boy.

Lisa started to speak hesitantly. "Jessica, I think you're a fantastic girl, and...well, the fact that our relationship didn't work out was more than half my fault."

"Your fault?" Jessica couldn't believe what she was hearing. "I framed you for stealing the collection money!"

"Yeah," Lisa acknowledged, "but I took it more personally than I should have."

"If you have a point, make it," said Jessica with impatience.

After gathering her courage and making a few funny faces, Lisa-in-Bart leaned over and kissed Jessica tenderly on the lips.

The surprised girl backed away a few inches. "Good point," she said.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

When Marge walked into Lisa's room, she found the girl in front of her mirror, sizing up a pair of old blue slacks with matching blouse. "Where did you get those clothes?" she inquired.

"Wanda loaned them to me," Bart-in-Lisa answered.

"They look terrible," Marge complained.

"I know, Mom," said Bart darkly, "but I'm tired of wearing dresses."

"You look pretty in dresses," Marge insisted.

"I don't want to look pretty," said Bart. "I just want to get through the next twenty-four days and go back to being a boy."

"You're missing out," said Marge with a slight grin. "Dressing up is one of the best parts of being a girl."

Bart sighed and tossed the borrowed clothes onto Lisa's bed.

"Okay," said Marge with a tone of defeat. "If you're really uncomfortable wearing a dress, I'll take you shopping for some nice pants. But you're not wearing those old grubbies, and you're not wearing boy clothes."

"Fine," said Bart.

Without further ado, Marge whisked him away to the shopping mall. As they wandered among the various shops, Bart gazed at the lavish displays of merchandise. "This place is causing a strange feeling to come over me", he reflected.

"There's nothing strange about it," said Marge. "All little girls love to shop."

"Then this feeling is my enemy," Bart declared.

They passed by a Toys-R-Us store, where Bart-in-Lisa was overwhelmed by a powerful sensation at the sight of a doll exhibit. "Mom, look!" he blurted out. "It's the new U.N. Delegate Malibu Stacy!"

"So it is," Marge acknowledged.

"Will you buy it for me?" Bart pleaded. "Please?"

Marge puzzled over the girl's sudden change in attitude. "I thought you didn't like dolls."

"But I do! I do!" Bart insisted. "Please buy it for me, please!"

"We came here to shop for clothes," said Marge firmly. "Now let's go."

Disappointed, Bart followed his mother into the Dullard's clothing store. There Marge consulted with a clerk, who happened to be the Guy Who Says Yeeeess. "I'm looking for a new outfit for my daughter. Something boyish, yet attractively feminine."

"Yeeeess!" replied the clerk. "We have exactly what you need. Come this way, ma'am."

While the clerk led Marge to the girls' pants section, Bart wandered off to browse the dress trees. He found a white dress with a pink collar, and started to dote over it. "So soft...so beautiful..." he mumbled wistfully.

Meanwhile, the clerk was showing Marge a pair of blue slacks with matching blouse. "It looks okay to me," she said, "but let's see what Lisa thinks. Lisa?"

They found the girl still running her fingers over the white dress. "So beautiful..."

"I thought you didn't want a dress," said Marge with surprise.

Bart-in-Lisa shook his head as if coming out of a trance. "Huh?" he grunted incredulously. "Why am I holding this stupid girly dress? If I wore this, I could skydive without a parachute, man!"

"Take a look at these," said Marge, showing him the slacks and blouse.

"Yeah, they're fine," said Bart emotionlessly.

"Do you have dressing rooms?" Marge asked the clerk.

"Yeeeess!" answered the clerk, pointing. "Right over here."

As the two ladies followed the clerk to the dressing room, Bart remarked, "Mom, don't ask this guy any more yes-or-no questions unless you know beforehand that the answer is no."

While he changed into the new outfit, Marge engaged in small talk with the clerk. "Lisa can be capricious at times. One minute she wants to look like a boy, the next she wants to look like a girl again. It's frustrating."

"Yeeeess!" said the clerk. "I was that way when I was a young man."

Shortly Bart came out of the dressing room, wearing the blue slacks and blouse, and a smile. "I feel much better now," he said cheerily. "No more airflow around my butt."

The clerk handed a pen and application form to Marge. "If you sign up for a store credit card, we'll take 20 off the total price. What do you say?"

"Yeeeess!" said Marge.

After paying for the new clothes, Marge and Bart exited the Dullard's store and passed by the Toys-R-Us. "Did you want to look at the new Malibu Stacy doll again?" Marge asked her daughter.

"No way, Mom," Bart-in-Lisa answered. "You know I hate dolls."

When the pair returned home from the mall, they were shocked to see Lisa and Jessica on the couch, holding hands. "Jessica Lovejoy?" exclaimed Bart. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

"That's the first time I've ever heard you swear, Lisa," said Jessica condescendingly. "Are you turning over a new leaf?"

"Jessica's my girlfriend again," Lisa-in-Bart explained. "We patched things up. Oh, and if I were a girl, I wouldn't be caught dead in those clothes, Lis. Cough cough take them back cough cough."

"Are you out of your melon?" Bart bellowed at her. "She'll stab you in the back the first chance she gets!"

"I'm counting on it," said Lisa unworriedly.

"You're playing with fire, Bart," said Bart-in-Lisa, rolling his eyes.

He ascended the stairs to his sister's room, and then Homer rushed in, pumping his fists wildly. "We're rich!" he exulted. "We're rich! We're rich!"

"Dad! Shh!" Lisa quieted him.

"We're rich...we're rich..." Homer whispered.

"Dad, Jessica isn't supposed to know!" Lisa chided her father.

"Know what?" asked the clueless Homer.

"That you-know-who did you-know-what in exchange for X amount of dollars," Lisa reminded him.

"Don't talk in riddles, boy!"

"You'll have to excuse my dad," Lisa said to Jessica. "He's overreacting because Mr. Smithers admitted to being at fault in the accident that killed Mr. Burns."

In her room, Bart-in-Lisa took off her necklace and placed it in a drawer, then stood in front of the mirror and admired her boyish new look. _Hmm, not bad. I almost feel like my old self again. Now if I could just do something about the hair..._

A short while later, Marge, Lisa, and Jessica were watching TV. "And now, the newest reality show from FOX Network--_Lost and Spaced!_" On the screen, four people--two men and two women--suddenly found themselves in a room full of electronic consoles.

"Hey, where are we?" wondered Man 1.

"It looks like some kind of spacecraft," remarked Woman 1.

"Look out the window!" exclaimed Man 2. "We're in outer space!"

"I can see Earth!" said Woman 2. "We must be millions of miles away!"

"We'll die in the empty void of space!" wailed Man 1.

"Not if we find a way to survive," suggested Woman 1.

"We'll need food, water, and oxygen," said Man 2.

"Who are all you people, anyway?" asked Woman 2.

"Little do our four contestants realize that the spacecraft is really a movie set, and what looks like outer space is really a digital effect!" said the Fox announcer. "Will they survive? Will they get along? Will they go crazy and start killing each other? Tune in next week!"

"I guess everyone got bored with the show about people who get plastic surgery to look like their pets," said Lisa.

Jessica sniffed the air. "I think I smell smoke."

"Don't worry about it," said Marge. "We have a fire alert system. It warns us if there's even the slightest hint of a fire."

"How does it work?" asked Jessica.

Suddenly Homer rushed into the room, waving his arms frantically. "Fire! Fire!" he shrieked.

"That's our cue," said Marge, jumping to her feet.

Grabbing the fire extinguisher from the kitchen, she followed Homer, Lisa, and Jessica to the back yard, where they found a pile of blue material that had been set ablaze. Marge quickly doused the fire with the extinguisher.

Lisa sensed an easily recognizable aroma. "Lighter fluid!"

"What is it?" asked Jessica, gazing at the scorched blue mound. "I mean, what _was_ it?"

Nudging the burned material with her foot, Marge came to a horrible realization. "Oh my God! It's the clothes I just bought for Lisa!"

Homer became enraged and flew at Lisa. "Why, you little..."

While Marge tried to stop Homer from strangling the wrong child, Bart-in-Lisa hurried into the back yard, once again wearing her dress and necklace. "Mom! Dad! Have you seen my new clothes?"

When she saw everyone glowering at her, and the pile of ruined fabric on the ground, her heart split in two. "NOOOOOO!" she wailed.

"Why, Lisa?" Marge demanded. "You could have burned the whole house down! And I spent good money on these clothes!"

"I didn't do it!" cried the horrified Bart.

"How many times have I heard _that_ excuse before?" snarled Homer.

"But I didn't, I swear!" insisted Bart as tears coursed down her cheeks. "I was looking at myself in the mirror, and the next thing I knew I was wearing a dress again..."

"You're grounded, young lady!" Marge barked. "And I'm not buying you any more clothes!"

Bursting into anguished sobs, Bart ran all the way to her bedroom.

"Gosh, why's Lisa acting so weird?" Jessica wondered.

"Well, she's gone through a lot of changes in her life recently," Marge tried to explain.

When she reached her room, Bart-in-Lisa threw herself over the bed and wept uncontrollably. _What's the matter with me?_ she sobbed. _I'm crying like a girl! And all because of those stupid clothes!_

Seeing a sibling in need of comfort, Lisa entered the room, sat down next to Bart, and ran her hand over his heaving back. Bart, turning his tear-stained face to her, said, "You have to believe me, Lis. I didn't burn my clothes."

"I don't know how that's possible," said Lisa, "unless somebody changed you back into your dress without your knowledge."

Bart cried more bitterly. "I don't remember what happened!"

"I know you must feel really embarrassed right now," said Lisa soothingly, "so let's change the subject to something that won't make you cry."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that once this is over, you and I will understand each other better, and we'll be closer than ever before."

They embraced, and Lisa continued to hug Bart tightly until his tears dried up.

"Why is it so easy for you to be a boy?" he asked her.

"It's not," Lisa admitted. "It's weird and different in a lot of ways, but I know it'll be over soon, so I enjoy it while it lasts. It's sort of like taking a vacation from being a girl." She took a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped Bart's cheeks with it. "There, don't you feel better after a good cry?"

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

While Marge and Homer discussed their daughter's unusual behavior, Bart and Lisa came down the stairs. "Mom, Dad, we've come to a decision," said Lisa-in-Bart officiously.

"What do you mean?" Homer protested. "In this house, I'm the one who makes the decisions. Uh, that's true, isn't it, Marge?"

"I don't think I can stand twenty-four more days as a girl," said Bart-in-Lisa. "I'm afraid I'll go crazy."

"What she did to her new clothes may be an early sign of insanity," Lisa theorized.

"Are you saying you want to switch back now?" asked Marge.

"We don't need a million dollars," said Lisa. "We've gotten along fine before."

"Now wait a minute!" Homer groused. "Finally we come across a get-rich-quick scheme that doesn't require me to lift a finger, and you all want to bail out at the first sign of trouble?"

"Homer, our daughter's...our son's mental health is more important than a million dollars," Marge opinionated.

"But with a million dollars, we can pay a doctor to cure whatever's wrong with your noggin," Homer suggested to Bart.

"But what if it can't be cured?" Lisa worried. "Not only will Bart become a vegetable, but I won't be able to return to my body."

Marge picked up the phone. "I'm calling Professor Frink right now."

"No, Marge!" Homer pleaded.

"Do you have a better idea?" Marge pressed him.

Homer thought for a moment. "Uh...uh...yeah! Ask Professor Frink to build a time machine, send Bart and Lisa twenty-four days into the future, get the million dollars, and come back!"

"That wouldn't work," said Marge. "He would catch on."

"Bah!" Homer boasted. "Where you see problems, I see solutions!"

Marge dialed Frink's number. "Hello, Professor Frink?"

"Wait!" Homer ranted. "I have another idea! This one's better!"

"Yes, Bart and Lisa want to reverse the body switch now," Marge spoke into the phone.

"Ask him if he'll give us a million dollars for switching the cat and the dog," Homer urged.

"Okay, I'll ask them," said Marge. Turning to Bart and Lisa, she asked, "Can you wait until tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yeah, I suppose so," said Bart flatly.

"That's not a problem for me," said Lisa.

"How about Maggie and the dog?" Homer proposed. "Is that worth a million?"

"They say that's fine," said Marge into the phone.

"How about you and Lisa?" Homer suggested. "She's so mature, nobody would notice."

"Thank you, Professor. Goodbye." Marge hung up the phone.

"Call him back!" Homer pleaded. "He didn't hear my ideas!"

"Homer, let's get Bart and Lisa fixed first, then we can talk about your ideas," said Marge urgently.

"Hey, Homer," said Bart, "if you want the money so bad, why don't you switch bodies with someone?"

"Let's get you kids fixed first, then we'll talk about my ideas, and then we'll talk about _your_ ideas," was Homer's response.

"Did he say how much he would pay us for being switched just for a week?" asked Lisa.

"No," answered Marge, "but I'm guessing we get nothing."

"I've got it!" exclaimed Homer. "We wait until the girl goes crazy, then sue Frinky for all he's worth!"

"Shut up, Homer!" Marge yelled.

The next morning was Sunday, and the Simpsons left Bart at their house with Grandpa Abe while they attended church services.

"You go and do your meditation," the old man instructed him, "or whatever it is you do now, and I'll sit here and lean my head back and snore and drool."

"Sure thing, Grandpa," said Bart.

As soon as Grandpa fell asleep in the easy chair, Bart-in-Lisa went to the kitchen cupboard and obtained a can of chocolate frosting and some birthday candles. Using a spatula, he ladled the frosting onto Grandpa's bald scalp and carefully smoothed it out, singing all the while, "Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me..."

Sunday school was taught by Helen Lovejoy, and Lisa, Jessica, Janey, Lewis, and Ralph were among those present.

"Mrs. Lovejoy," asked Lewis, "what happened to my little sister who died when she was a baby?"

"She went to heaven," replied the reverend's wife.

Lisa raised her hand. Mrs. Lovejoy sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Was she still a girl after she went to heaven?" was Lisa's question.

"Of course she was," came Mrs. Lovejoy's response.

"Will she be a girl forever and ever?" asked Lisa.

"Yes, Bart. Girls stay girls, and boys stay boys."

"What if a boy wants to be a girl, or a girl wants to be a boy?"

"That's not what God intended, you pervert."

Jessica became indignant. "Mom, that's my boyfriend you're calling a pervert!"

Janey piped up with a question. "What if an evil scientist shoots you with a gender change ray, and then you die? What happens?"

"I don't have to answer that question." said the teacher dismissively.

"Angels are girls," Ralph observed. "They wear dresses."

When church was over, Jessica tagged along with the Simpsons as they returned home. "Thanks for taking care of Lisa," said Marge to Grandpa as he shuffled out the front door.

"Oh, is that what I was doing?" the old man mumbled.

"Lunch should be ready in just a few minutes," said Marge as she sat down with the others to watch TV.

"I learned in sunday school that when people go to heaven, the girls stay girls and the boys stay boys, forever and ever," Lisa related to Bart.

"Why are you telling me this?" Bart asked her. "You're a Buddhist."

"I'm only trying to illustrate the superiority of Buddhism over Christianity. In Buddhism, the spirit isn't male or female. It has no form at all."

"When did you become a Buddhist?" Jessica asked Lisa.

"We interrupt this program for a special news report," said the TV announcer.

"Quiet, everybody!" exclaimed Marge.

The face of Kent Brockman appeared on the screen, and he bore shocking tidings. "Nobel Prize-winning scientist John Frink was found shot dead in his home this morning!"

"Oh God, no!" Marge blurted out.

"Huh?" Homer grunted. "Frinky's dead?"

"AAAAAARGH!" screamed Bart and Lisa in abject horror.

"Who?" wondered Jessica.

The news camera showed Police Chief Wiggum at Frink's home, which was covered in police tape. "He was shot three times in the glavin," the chief recounted. "He died instantly."

"As of this moment, police have no suspects or motives," Brockman continued. "Dr. Frink is survived by his robo-wife Gladys and his clone George."

"Bart, Professor Frink is dead!" Lisa lamented. "Now we'll never be switched back! I'll be a boy for the rest of my life!"

"I'll be a girl for the rest of eternity!" cried Bart, and the siblings wailed in anguish as they embraced each other.

"Who would be capable of such a horrible deed?" Marge wondered.

Homer answered without hesitation. "Fat Tony, Snake, Sideshow Bob, Kang, Kodos, Hank Scorpio, Frank Grimes Jr., those guys with the mind-control flu shots, and Artie Ziff."

"No, not Artie!"

Kent Brockman appeared on the TV with Gladys, robotic widow of the late Dr. Frink. "John programmed me with all the necessary instructions to operate his equipment, in case anything happened to him," she intoned as drops of saline solution flowed down her metallic cheeks.

"Did you hear that?" said Bart.

"That means there's still hope!" Lisa exulted.

"Hope for what?" asked Jessica curiously.

"I guess we should tell her," said Bart-in-Lisa. "Jessica...I'm really Bart."

"And I'm really Lisa," Lisa-in-Bart added. "Professor Frink offered us a million dollars if we switched bodies for a month."

Jessica's mouth fell open. "What...? You mean I've been kissing...a _girl?_"

"Yes and no," said Lisa. "You see, I wanted to have as many boy experiences as I could while I was in Bart's body. That included having a girlfriend, and having my heart broken by a girl. That's why I chose you--because you can't be trusted."

Jessica could only stammer. "Wh-why, that's...that's the most outrageous, despicable thing I've ever heard! And you have no idea how much that turns me on!"

As she eagerly pressed her lips against Lisa's, Bart tapped his sister on the shoulder. "Come on, loverboy. Let's go see Mrs. Frink about getting switched back."

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Bart, Lisa, and Jessica ran the six blocks to the Frink house without stopping. They crossed the police line to find Chief Wiggum and the robot Gladys Frink inside. "You kids shouldn't be here," the chief warned them. "This is a crime scene."

"But Professor Frink switched our bodies before he was killed," Bart-in-Lisa explained.

"Can you switch us back, Mrs. Frink?" asked Lisa-in-Bart.

"Affirmative," the she-robot replied. "Follow me."

While Chief Wiggum poked about the house in search of clues, Mrs. Frink led Bart, Lisa, and Jessica to the laboratory. Soon they were standing before the very device that the late Professor Frink had used to switch Bart and Lisa.

"That is so cool," Jessica marveled. "Maybe I can use it to get into the body of someone who still has a perfect reputation."

"Please be seated," said Mrs. Frink, motioning with her servo-hand toward the chairs with attached helmets. Bart immediately sat down, and the robot fastened the straps and shackles over his body. Bart, however, stood motionlessly, uncertainty filling his expression.

"What are you waiting for, Bart?" Lisa inquired of him.

"Just a minute," said Bart anxiously. "I forgot something."

He hurried out of the laboratory while Mrs. Frink lowered the electronic helmet over Lisa's head. "You will feel no pain," the mechanical woman assured her.

Jessica approached the empty seat next to Lisa. "I've got an idea," she said jokingly. "Let's you and I switch until Lisa comes back."

"Trust me, Jessica," said Lisa. "Being a boy is overrated."

Suddenly, in the distance, Mrs. Frink, Lisa, and Jessica heard Chief Wiggum's alarmed voice. "Hey, give that back! Where are you going with that?"

This was followed by rapid footsteps that drew nearer and nearer--and then Bart appeared, clutching a revolver in his hand, a dazed look on his face.

Lisa gasped in horror and struggled vainly against her restraints. Mrs. Frink and Jessica froze. Chief Wiggum charged Bart-in-Lisa from behind, but not quickly enough to stop him from aiming the gun at the mind-transfer console...and firing three shots.

Electrical sparks shot from the damaged console as it burst into flames.

"Lisa, stop!" cried Jessica. The armed girl's response was to aim the revolver at her and pull the trigger.

"Jessica! No!" screamed Lisa.

Jessica Lovejoy, pierced by a bullet, fell helplessly onto her back and became motionless.

Bart's last act before Chief Wiggum pounced on him was to point the gun at Lisa. He tried to fire, but nothing happened--the revolver was empty.

While Mrs. Frink rushed to Jessica's side, the chief slapped handcuffs on Bart, and the ruined mind-transfer console made sizzling noises, Lisa could only gape in disbelief at the horrible scene.

"Analyzing injury," said Mrs. Frink as she looked over Jessica's wound. "Prognosis: non-fatal. Hospitalization required."

Having retrieved his revolver and secured Bart, Chief Wiggum dragged her in front of Lisa's chair and started to loosen her restraints with one hand. "Why, Bart? Why?" demanded Lisa in a voice filled with despair.

"Not Bart," the girl muttered weakly. "Lisa."

Before long Bart had been taken to the police station for interrogation. Among those present were Homer, Marge, Bart, Chief Wiggum, and noted psychologist Dr. Marvin Monroe.

"I don't remember what happened," sobbed the frightened, cuffed Bart as the chief questioned him. "I don't remember shooting anybody."

"But we all saw you do it," Wiggum insisted. "You shot Professor Frink's machine. You shot Jessica Lovejoy."

"Jessica? Is she all right?"

"She's being treated in the hospital. She'll pull through."

Dr. Monroe pulled out a notepad and pen, and addressed Bart. "Why don't you start by telling us your name? Your real name?"

"I...I'm Bart Simpson," Bart answered nervously. "I'm in my sister's body."

"Interesting," Dr. Monroe mused. "Do you want to return to your own body?"

"Yes," Bart lamented, "but I can't. The machine was destroyed."

"Wrong," said the doctor. "The machine is still intact, and when we're finished here, were going to put both of you back in your rightful bodies."

To everyone's astonishment, the news that should have delighted Bart instead caused his face to erupt in terror. "No! No!" he pleaded desperately. "I don't want to be a boy!"

"Wha...I don't understand..." Bart stammered.

Dr. Monroe continued to take notes. "Interesting. Now, why don't you start by telling us your name? Your real name?"

Bart's, or rather Lisa's, voice took on a childish tone. "My name is Lisa Simpson."

"But...but I'm Lisa!" Lisa insisted loudly.

"Quiet!" Dr. Monroe snapped at her. Turning to Bart, he asked, "Lisa, did you kill Professor John Frink?"

"Yes," Bart-in-Lisa answered innocently. "While Grandpa was asleep, I stole Mom's gun and sneaked out of the house."

Homer shot Marge a dirty look.

"Why did you kill him?" the doctor asked.

"Because he was going to make me a boy."

"Did you set your new clothes on fire?" Marge inquired.

"Yes," replied Bart-in-Lisa. "I hated them. They made me look like a boy. They...they were _his_ idea."

"Whose idea?" asked Dr. Monroe.

"Bart's idea." Bart-in-Lisa narrowed her eyes and grimaced as if suffering from a headache. "He's in my head. He wants to make me a boy. I wish he would go away!"

"Lisa, do you like Malibu Stacy dolls?" asked Dr. Monroe.

"Yes, I love them. But he hates them. He paints their faces and dyes their hair weird colors."

"And do you like to wear pretty dresses?"

"Yes, I wear dresses every day. But he hates dresses. He wants to make me wear pants, like a boy."

Dr. Monroe glanced momentarily over the notes he had written. "Lisa, can you name the Presidents of the United States in chronological order?"

"Of course I can."

"Then let's hear them."

Bart-in-Lisa appeared to be straining her memory. "Uh...Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, Roosevelt..."

"That's not right," said Lisa. "Not even close."

"Lisa, what's the capital of California?" Dr. Monroe quizzed the girl.

"Uh...Hollywood?"

"Wrong again," said Lisa.

"Lisa, tell me about how you got your saxophone," was the doctor's next question.

"Um...uh...I don't remember," Bart-in-Lisa replied. "But I play it all the time, and I annoy Bart."

"Interesting." Dr. Monroe jotted down a few more notes. "Lisa, how do you know you're really Lisa Simpson?"

"Because I look like her."

"I see." The doctor rubbed his unshaven chin. "Lisa, when I told you that the body-switching machine was still intact, that was a lie. It's completely demolished. You're in no danger of ever becoming a boy."

Bart-in-Lisa's expression became more relaxed.

"Can I talk to Bart now?" asked Dr. Monroe.

Bart shook his head in confusion. "Huh? What happened?"

"Bart, what's the capital of California?" the doctor inquired.

"Uh...Hollywood?"

Dr. Monroe closed his notepad. "What does it mean, doctor?" Marge asked him.

"At this point all I can do is theorize," he replied. "It seems that when Bart's personality was transferred into Lisa's body, the shock was so great that it split in two. One personality was his own, and the other assumed it was Lisa because that's who it saw when it looked in the mirror. But the Lisa personality only has Bart's perceptions of Lisa to draw on, so she's incomplete. She knows she's a girl, so she doesn't want to be a boy. She knows she can list the Presidents, but she can't actually do it. She knows she plays the saxophone, but she can't remember how she got her instrument. She knows she likes to wear dresses and hates to wear pants. In essence, you could call the two personalities 'Bart who thinks he's Bart' and 'Bart who thinks he's Lisa'. And Bart's constant repression of the femaleness of his new body only exacerbated the conflict between the two, until it exploded into violence."

"So what happens to her now?" asked Homer.

"She'll have to be institutionalized, naturally. She's dangerously schizophrenic."

"Oh, my poor baby!" Marge sobbed.

"If you decide to seek reparations, I know a good lawyer," said the doctor. "His name's Lionel Hutz."

Chief Wiggum nodded toward Eddie and Lou, who stood nearby. "Take her away, boys."

The two cops led Bart-in-Lisa out of the room, while Homer, Marge, and Lisa left through another exit, saddened by Bart's tragic fate.

"I hope to God they find a way to cure her," Marge mourned.

"So do I," said Lisa-in-Bart sadly. "But I'll never be cured. I'll be a boy until I die."

"I know how you feel, Lisa honey," said Homer comfortingly. "I'll do everything I can to make it easy for you."

"Really?" said Lisa hopefully.

"Really," said Homer. "Now come on, boy."

An hour later, Lisa Simpson's body was locked inside of a padded cell at the Springfield Mental Hospital. She sat down on a wooden chair, glanced about at the bare walls, and grinned sinisterly.

_They think I'm dangerous,_ she mused. _Why, I wouldn't even hurt a fly!_

THE END


End file.
